


Forbidden Feelings

by KingpinCobblepot (Theonlylucysaxon)



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: BDSM mentions, Blood Kink, Enemies to Lovers, Foxglove setting, Jealous Ed, M/M, Sort of? - Freeform, lots of feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-08-30 03:13:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16756600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theonlylucysaxon/pseuds/KingpinCobblepot
Summary: Basically this was going to be a one shot with the prompt with the idea of hate sex that turned tender. It definitely evolved from that. Essentially the boys share a kiss, which sort of makes them both realize how much they still feel about one another.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> And now I'm two parts in and almost finished with the final part-- but lack the self control to wait until I have all parts finished so here we are.

“You really have sunken to a new low.” Oswald’s words were biting as he gripped his glass of scotch with nearly enough force to break it. If only he could… He’d use one of the shards to drive into Edward’s jugular. Oh what a fond fantasy…

The taller man was not much better in the realm of civility as he offered a smirk and leaned across the table between them. “I came here to offer you a sense of peace between us. I was under the impression a treaty might be in order, and even desired after our last little tête-à-tête left much to be desired and certainly didn’t have the desired results.” His voice was almost mocking in return. It was little news amongst the criminal community in Gotham that the Riddler and the Penguin were at war. Nor would it be news to anyone that with every promise of future discord, there only ever came fresh betrayals and low blows. Each attempted almost constantly to leave the other being hit hard enough that they could never get back up. Each wanted to be able to claim a victory. 

Unfortunately, it was in the spirit of one-upmanship that Oswald had his men trigger alarms at every bank the Riddler attempted to hit in a single nights work. Every. Last. One. Either leaving him to run off from the police or even worse, leaving him approaching the institution to find it swarmed with cops and their little cars with sirens rolling and the lights flashing. As if such a spectacle was needed. Really. Edward had plans that night, he was going to hit every bank in Gotham in the span of 8 hours and leave a clue at each and every one which was only the first part in a brilliant master plan that only he could ever truly understand but which would leave his audience of pathetic Gotham citizens dazzled. He had PLANS. Oswald ruined those plans, so it only felt natural that Ed be allowed to ruin something of Oswald’s in return. 

And as Oswald knew just how to get under Ed’s skin by upstaging him, Edward knew just how to trigger Oswald into one of his ever so unattractive tantrums. A fact which, while Oswald was loathe to admit, he couldn’t deny as when he arrived at his mother’s graveside for his always predictable Sunday morning visit-- only to find her body being exhumed under some falsified orders and forged paperwork. While he had no doubt, just who was skilled enough to forge both his writing and the writing of every member of his legal team, Oswald never would have guessed that as he screamed and stomped and threatened… As his face turned purple and the veins in his neck throbbed against the collar of his shirt, Edward was off in a hedge nearby, watching gleefully. 

And now Ed had the  _ audacity _ to come here and ask for peace? He had the very nerve to act as though he had any right to negotiate any kind of treaty between them? LAUGHABLE. 

And Oswald would laugh too… If he wasn’t so busy imagining carving that tiny smirk Ed still wore from his insolent face. The hate inside him was burning far too intensely, and as a far too well tended flame to just allow for any kind of accord between them anyway. He had spent too much time hating Ed. The Penguin could scarcely recall what he did with his free time before it, and considered with great difficulty just what his life could ever be if he ceased to have it anymore. He wondered if he might feel lonely without it.

Still leaning on the table, hands against the wood with fingers splayed, Edward smiled down at Oswald almost condescendingly. “Come now, Oswald. Be reasonable… I was only doing you a favor.” His tone had fallen softer, and he leaned in close enough to practically whisper to him. Meanwhile, Oswald was merely wishing he hadn’t allowed them to clear his dinner dishes already, or he would have his steak knife handy to drive into one of those oh so temptingly deft fingers that were far too vulnerable as they were. He was so lost in the daydream of how cleaning through the instrument could go, basically pinning Edward to the table by his finger… he almost wasn’t listening to the words that came from lips he tried very hard not to pay any attention to. 

After all, when one hates someone, they rarely focus all their attention on the shape of that person’s mouth… The sound of their voice… The way their lips move to form syllables that trip off their eloquent tongue and make one’s pulse quicken. 

N-no. 

Best to focus on the idea of stabbing his hand, which of course came full circle when Edward dared to finish that sentiment which would have been infinitely better left incomplete. 

“After all, Ossie, she really should be with your father… In a landfill somewhere.” 

In the moments before he said the words, Ed left what he would always defend as a flourishing dramatic pause. Yes. For the drama of it. Nothing more or less. He would never admit to the idea that he was so close to Oswald, drawing in the scent of him and feeling the proximity-- luxuriating in being able to have this sort of closeness. Which he certainly didn’t crave. And he certainly didn’t enjoy. No. Of course not. Just as his pulse didn’t quicken as he delivered the words and found himself being grabbed by the tie and hoisted back against the nearby wall of the empty club. Just as he didn’t feel his breath go shallow at being touched by the shorter man whose biting grip was trying to cut off his airway. How… How awful. How unaffecting. Boring. Disinteresting at best and entirely terrible at worst. What an undesirable situation of necessity and necessity alone. 

Yes. That's what this was. For both of them of course. Oswald’s anger overcame him and suddenly he had Ed against a wall as if he were going to kill him. Perhaps he should. It would serve the other man right for speaking that way, for bringing his mother into this. She was a SAINT. Oswald was about to scream this at Edward and with the full effect of all his anger behind him. But then…. Then they were suddenly so close together and his hand was against the soft skin of Ed’s neck and it was all so… distracting. He tried his best to keep his face impassive even as confusion flickered in his eyes. He turned away from Edward suddenly, releasing him as he made the decision to take a different approach. Ed just wanted to make him angry. Well, two could easily play that game. Oswald stepped back, straightening himself and offered a small smile as he met Ed’s gaze with a devastating sort of coldness. 

“Yes, and I appreciate that friendly concern. Just as the Gotham Police Department appreciated mine. As a concerned citizen it was certainly my job to ensure that the money of this city’s people stayed safe last Tuesday. And what’s more, I think I plan to ensure my own personally employed security remain on standby each night just to keep everything in order.” He gave that terribly sarcastic grin. The one that made Edward want to slap him. Perhaps he would too, as this time he was again the one closing the distance and getting far too close. He towered over Oswald,  and let his tongue flick out pensively over his lips as he struggled with an almost intimidating amount of anger in his eyes. Almost. If only Ed could be intimidating.. Oswald considered. Before he could say more, Oswald was leaning up to match his degree of aggression and soon the men were too close for comfort and yet too far gone to back away. Neither wanted to seem the weaker. 

“I should kill you here and now, Oswald. Put you out of your misery of trying to make me care about you. I don’t. You need to get over it and stop fixating on me.” His tone was biting. 

“Oh really? Do I? Because you’re the one who came here today,  _ Edward _ .” Not as biting as Oswald’s. 

“Don’t call me that.” He growled. 

“There you go again, needing my approval.” Oswald smirked. “Does it hurt to be so desperately clawing at something you’ll never get,  _ Edward _ ?” They were so close that each man’s breath brushed against the other’s lips with each and every cruelly intended word. 

“You’d be the one to ask, wouldn’t you, Oswald… After all, it is the reaction of only the most petulant of children to be so bitter about not getting what they want. Or  _ who  _ they want for that matter.” 

Suddenly before either man knew what had happened, without either knowing who had made the first move or how things had gotten to this point-- the pair were suddenly against one another in a kiss. Not just a kiss though. It was more than that. Hands groped at jacket fabric and at tie material, a mess of teeth and tongues, of want and need, of hunger and lust-- all boiling out of them as if it burned beneath their skin and threatened to consume them both. Threatened to consume everything. It wasn’t even a choice when they kissed, it was like a chemical reaction. Inevitable. Violent. Predictable to everyone except the elements involved. Both men who likely had spent far too much time professing and nurturing their grudges, had never imagined this was the inescapable nature of their relationship. Of a hate so passionate it one day would spark the embers of something else. Something different. Something dangerous.

Oswald was the one to pull away. He couldn’t help it. He couldn’t do this. Unlike Ed, he had dedicated himself to feelings not too dissimilar from this. Feelings he wasn’t ready to admit to still harboring. Edward looked almost frightened of what had happened as his lustful gaze cleared and soon he was scrambling to grab his coat and stammer out syllables that were perhaps meant to be a goodbye before he stumbled away. All but running. 

Leaving Oswald to his empty club and thoughts of just what the hell had happened. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We all cope with desire in different ways, right? 
> 
> Well, except these two cope in the same place. What a coincidence!

In the weeks that followed, Oswald tried not to think of any of it. He tried his best to keep his mind as clear of Ed as he could manage. Neither man took any action against the other which was helpful. After all, the war they’d been waging was hard to ignore. The freshly silent battlefront certainly felt odd and almost eerie for those around them. Everyone assumed that the lull was because each man had plans in the works. Some nefarious scheme to ensure the other fell to his knees and begged mercy. The thought of Ed on his knees… Well, it had started to have other connotations ever since their little meeting.  Not that Oswald allowed himself to consider it. Instead, he was keeping busy with other work. The club. His empire. He had a million things to do and none of them were anything to do with the so called Riddler. 

Ed had his own form of distraction in the meanwhile. In the last two weeks, he had spent 12 nights at the Foxglove-- the most notorious sort of exclusive brothel in all of Gotham. For all that the riddle loving man thought of the intellect of such company, he couldn’t shake the all consuming lust that had begun to take hold of him. A man of science. Of logic. Of brilliance, and yet his sexual appetites had as of late been the only thing he had any mind to satiate. The only thing he could find any will to do something with. He spent his days trying to think and focus on a plan, on ANY plan, but always when the sun slipped down, he found himself off to the next location and the delicious company of another human being whom he was allowed to take the sweet carnal delight of physical ecstasy from. Drawing from their lips the most inhuman noises as he whipped them, beat them, bathed their blood into the silken sheets and languidly fucked the willing individual over the blissful precipice of orgasm without any concern for the thoughts that lingered just below the stilled surface of his mind. 

Those thoughts, as well ignored as they were, still existed. Still haunted him.In the throws of passion or the afterglow of orgasm. Whether he was thrusting deeply into a male companion or feeling the satisfied touch of a feminine hand… It didn’t matter. Oswald was there. Like a ghost. Like a demon which was living inside of Edward Nygma, possessing him somehow. Taking away his ability to enjoy anything and sparking inside him a ravenousness which he never knew he could feel. It all started with that kiss as well. It all started with that damned kiss. 

A part of him wondered, maybe if he could deliver his delicious sense of domination to Oswald then maybe he would be cured of his fixation. His compulsion. Maybe he would be able to move past it all if just one night Oswald was tied to the bed beneath him and he was using his favorite flogger to strip back Oswalds flesh and watch as the blood trickled down his spine to the indentation above his probably very round and firm---

Ed refused to give such a theory much consideration though. 

Perhaps for fear of just how vivid such a fantasy would run if allowed. 

It would be on his thirteenth visit to the club, which he had only ever come to before that kiss on the rare occasion of a physical craving he couldn’t satisfy, that Edward would find everything he could want and more. Prior to all of this, he had never even considered a predilection for truly grotesque beatings. He had always liked tying some lovely professional up and hearing them scream for him as he claimed his orgasm and gave them one they would never forget. He liked that feeling of pride which came with knowing he was the best they would ever have. The best anyone had ever had. He excelled at all things he did and possessed an IQ of 210 at lleast. Of course he was the best… But on this, the thirteenth night he pocketed the key to a specifically stocked play room and sipped his green cocktail, looking around at the various potential partners whom he could have join him for the night to satisfy his needs… His eyes fell on the only one who could ever really satisfy him. 

Oswald had only come of course, because he hadn’t indulged with another person in.. quite some time. The man was almost in his forties now, and he hardly had any reason to hold back from the things he wanted. Sex was a natural impulse and now and again to enjoy it with another person was fine. He usually had an escort sent to his home of course, from a service run through a discreet and very high end clientele base. But he had been told tonight his regular choice of companion was unavailable. Unfortunate, but not life ending. Oswald knew this place was meant to cater to all manner of tastes, and so he came here tonight, having  sent ahead of him a request for a very very specific sort of request. He now sat across from the man in question, smiling at the uncanniness of it. He was even better than the ones sent by his service. 

He was tall. Six feet probably, and very slender in build. Not a man described by any as muscular but far more likely to be be defined as lanky. His long legs crossed as he wore a crisp green suit. Dark green. Almost black, which was unfortunately not the exact color Oswald had in mind, but for a last minute order-- not bad. He had high cheekbones, a long face, eyes that were a piercing sort of brown, and the most perfectly pink wide mouth. It spread with an easy smile. Oswald had asked for glasses. He didn’t have any, but that was okay. They would be taken off for the act anyway. The man spoke, and it was not entirely illusion shattering. He wasn’t a moron. And even if he was nowhere as handsome as the man he substituted for, he would certainly do for now. In the future, Oswald would remember him. He could bring him the right kind of suit. He could bring him the glasses. He could coax the man into cutting his slightly too long hair which was tied back in a very small pony tail at the nape of his neck. A nice, high and tight cut would suit him. He would look perfect. Oswald would make sure of it. He gently clinked his glass against the other’s drink, smiling brightly and leaning close to brush his lips against the stranger’s. He was soft. His lips were at least. Good. They should be. 

When Ed spotted them, he was unsure if he should feel angry or amused. He was caught somewhere in between, but certainly more on the side of amused. It was comical to see such an obvious imposter of himself sitting with Oswald. Pressed close. Laughing at some joke the poor idiot likely couldn’t really understand. Oswald clearly had feelings for him even now. Even after everything. He stood there like some moronic, moon eyed teenager trying to substitute someone for Ed. As if that could even be done. Ed was one of a kind, and even moreover a truly superior sort of person. No one could compete with him. No one. So it was just amusing to see one try. 

But the amusement seemed to stutter to a halt when the two men kissed. Hm. Why was Oswald kissing him? He wasn’t anything like Ed. Not really. Not enough to be kissed. And it wasn’t just one kiss. It was two. Three. Oh dear, was that his tongue? No. No. NO. That was unacceptable. Oswald didn’t... COULDN’T kiss someone else like that in front of Ed. He just couldn’t. The man lost the ability to find just where that sort of feeling came from, and the ability to care as the man moved to straddle Oswald’s lap. Ed cleared his throat as he approached the table and it was enough to catch Oswald’s fleetingly capable attention, and as his eyes fell on Ed they filled with a fresh sort of alertness as he pushed his companion away a little, clearing his own throat as he felt terribly embarrassed for having been caught. “G-go get some fresh drinks.” He murmured to the stranger who smiled and nodded as he slipped off after another kiss to Oswald’s flushed cheek. 

“Having fun, Mr. Penguin?” Ed asked through gritted teeth as he could feel the room’s eyes on them. Watching this altercation. They were hardly anonymous in this town. One being present on any given night was enough to get a few glances and hushed whispers as he walked past. Both…. Well, that was cause for utter gossip. And so Ed decided to remain professional. 

“Y-yes, I am, Mr. Riddler. And yourself?” Oswald straightened his tie and managed a smirk of sorts for him, even in feeling so undeniably flustered at being caught. 

“Well, I was having a lovely evening until I saw someone stealing my act.” He glanced to the man in the green suit, standing at the bar and  trying to recall what kind of scotch Oswald was drinking. Moron. 

Oswald could sense the tinge of jealousy in Ed’s voice. Soft. Minute. But there and definitely not something Oswald intended to waste time dissecting when it was so obviously there for the manipulation. 

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean… But regardless, I hope you didn’t have anything pressing to discuss with me. My friend and I were just about to retire to a room upstairs… He’s a very remarkable sort of person. I never dreamed I’d find anyone so intelligent in a place like this.” 

He says it to bother him, Ed knows this. But knowing this doesn’t mean it doesn’t bother him. 

It still does. Still causes that rush of irritation to flood him as his already clenched fists tighten. “Oh well, I’m glad you found someone you appreciate. We both know how hard it is for you to find someone who really is stimulating enough for you.. And how hard it can be to replace who you really want. “As he spoke he had closed the distance between them suddenly and that far too tempting and now almost familiar proximity engulfed them both. As if they were magnets, and once too near each other, they lost control of the closing distance caused by their mutual attraction. 

Oswald cleared his throat a little as he felt Ed’s hand rest against his own as he was leaned over to whisper in his ear. So hushed. So intimate. So desperately trying to avoid being heard from the overly attentive other patrons. He remained silent though. He held in all the words he wanted to say but couldn’t. 

“You should know I’m not very comfortable with this side of you, Oswald. I’m disappointed in you engaging in this kind of behavior…” His voice had taken on the growl it had been edging towards ever since Oswald made that little intelligence comment. 

“What exploring a little fun at a club like this where you clearly are also a paying customer?” Oswald smirked, challenging him as he pulled his face back to catch Ed’s eyes. The hand that had rested over his suddenly held a tight grip and Oswald’s breath caught in his throat as Ed once against closed that tiny space between them to snarl into his ear this time with no pretense and no little quips. 

“No. Pretending someone like that could ever satisfy you… It’s pathetic. We both know what you want.” With that last word Ed shifted suddenly to sit in the seat beside Oswald, hand still gripping the Penguin’s in a white knuckle grasp as his free hand disappeared beneath the table and Ed’s lips just brushed the shell of Oswald’s ear. “We both know you don’t want some idiotic imposter in a hideously made suit who is in serious need of a haircut.. Stop being coy and just… admit it….” With the last two words his hand beneath the table gently reached out to rest on Oswald’s inner thigh, In all the flurry of threats and taunting and confusion-- in all the silence which had proceeded that kiss-- in the last few weeks where nothing was said to one another and the oh so impending doom of the mounting tension between them might stretch on forever…. Oswald never imagined he would end up here. 

Neither did Ed though. Even now, he felt sure he was mad for doing this. For touching Oswald like this, one hand clenched over the smaller man’s as his other hand gripped his upper thigh. He could feel him slightly aroused already. For that  _ man.  _ It was eating Edward up inside and it was the reason behind all of this. Seeing that man-- that STRANGER on top of Oswald. Kissing him, Touching him. Then for Oswald to act as though he wanted him, as if he could actually enjoy the company of some gorilla like, under-evolved moron like that…. No. Simply NO. It was unacceptable and Edward-- the  _ Riddler  _ couldn’t allow that. He had to do something. And so here he was touching Oswald and feeling just how much he had enjoyed the touch and kiss of that other man, and all it was doing was making Ed consider how badly he wanted to bend Oswald over this table here and now and… And prove to him that there was no substitution for what they had. The fire. The hate, The chemistry. There was no getting past that kiss even as it was so obvious it’s exactly what he was trying to do, which of course was wildly hypocritical given the weeks Ed spent in hollow attempts to do just that himself. 

Oswald was trembling as he reached out to take a drink of his water. It occurred to him he could probably get Edward into bed right now. He could have that so long nursed desire to know his one time friend, and now greatest enemy in that sort of intimate way… To know what kind of passion lurked inside of him and just what it was that they could share physically. And that thought was… Well, tempting. 

Very tempting. 

Impossibly tempting. 

Oswald had spent so many nights, ever since he first realized just how much Ed had meant to him, fantasizing about this. About them. It was so difficult to put into words, to even consider putting into words. When they were friends, he felt guilty for thinking of him that way-- and then when he realized he was in love… Well, it all made sense, right? That was how love was expressed. That was how he had never known someone to express it for. But he craved it. He craved the taste of Edward in his mouth and the feel of him beneath his nervous fingertips. He wanted him. Just him. All the time. It was this preoccupation which he could hardly shake. Then they became enemies. Oswald wanted to forget it after that. He wanted to forget all of it. But it was too difficult. Too impossible. Just like now. It was so hard to deny all the feelings that were still there, the fact he never had any other fantasties than Edward anymore-- the fact he never wanted anyone but him.  This was his chance. This was it. 

But it was also the best chance he’d ever been offered to reject Edward as Edward had rejected him. It was the one chance he had to make him as unhappy as he had made Oswald. To get proper and sincere revenge on an even playing field. For however tempting it was to do the opposite, Oswald couldn’t give up this perfect chance for revenge. So as his “date” came back with their drinks, Oswald moved to scoot away from Ed, removing both the hand on his own and the one from his thigh so he could stand. The look of shock and confusion on that usually so smug face was utterly delicious as Oswald glanced at him before looking back at his companion. “Let’s forget about those, darling. I’m afraid I just can’t wait to take you upstairs.” He grinned and the man smiled back, almost shy. It was a compliment after all. Penguin was a millionaire. Or more. A very impressive, very intelligent man. And everyone in Gotham knew of him and knew his name. They all had one eye on the crime lord as he headed off with his new friend and left the infamous Riddler looking murderous and rather agape. 

He would NOT stand for this. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ed follows them.  
> Smut ensues.  
> And feelings.  
> Enjoy (:

He didn’t follow them right away.  No. He was more proud than that. He stayed down in the main room, coaxing his darker self down as he tried his best to find some partner to satiate him for the night. But all those dark thoughts of the things he wanted to enact filled him and no one else would ever do. He needed his proper victim. He needed the person who was meant to be his. He needed Oswald. And so, after a good flirting with one of the hostesses, and a reminder of just who he was, and a reassurance that this was all part of some elaborate sexual fantasy to be fulfilled by one friend enacting sudden, unexpected, but very welcome voyuerism on another, he got the room number that Oswald was presently in with his little toy of a man. Perfect. On the elevator ride up, he wondered when he began to care so much about how Oswald was trying to replace him. When did it begin to matter so much? Why did it ache inside of him to imagine what they were probably doing right now? He stared at his reflection in the metal doors in front of him, and questioned it all. Why was he so concerned? Why? WHY?

He was about to turn back. The doors opened, and he was about to just press the button back down, but then… Then he heard the soft, breathy, and undeniable moan of Oswald’s voice. This whole floor was a penthouse suite and on the other side of that door in front of him, Oswald was doing something that made him moan like that. Just out of sight and reach, that revolting whore of a man was touching Oswald. WAS GIVING HIM PLEASURE. Edward’s vision clouded to a tunnel and his heartbeat thrummed in his ears. Before he knew it, he had taken the long strides to close the distance to the door and his fist fell with hard, aggressive knocks onto the surface. He was in the midst of an almost obsessive hammering of his hand against the door when it abruptly swung open and there he was. The stranger. The man who had drawn that far too blissful and lusty sound from Oswald. 

_ His _ Oswald. 

“Can I help you?” He asked and Ed realized he hadn’t prepared anything to say. He hadn’t even prepared anything at all. He was just so angry. So furious. So consumed with the need to act that for the first time perhaps ever he hadn’t planned what he would do when he did indeed get the result he wanted. They were no longer doing those things. The room was open to him. The man he wanted so badly to skin alive stood before him. And somehow, he wasn’t sure what he wanted to say or do or what was supposed to happen next. 

Luckily, the Riddler and Oswald decided that because the moment the Penguin came into view just over the man’s shoulder, wrapped in nothing but a sheet and looking utterly disheveled already, Edward lost all control. “What the hell?” Oswald muttered, and then gave a half smirk to see Ed there looking enraged. The Riddler stormed into the room-- shoving past the moron to tower over Oswald suddenly, wanting to make that smirk fall. Wanting to make him feel the full force of his anger for doing this to him and making him feel this.

“What are you doing here, Ed?” Oswald asked, raising his brows as if surprised and rolling his tongue around against his cheek before adding. “I’m rather busy at the moment, you know?” 

The Riddler grabbed him up by the back of the neck suddenly and drew him into a hot and intense kiss. It was vicious. Aggressive. But more than anything it was staking a claim of ownership. Ed’s tongue pushed into Oswald’s mouth because he was his. And nothing was going to change that. Oswald had no right. No right at all to ever dream of having anyone else. The kiss was bruising as were Ed’s hands and soon he pulled back to stare down at him with slightly huffing breaths and Oswald looked up at him from hooded eyes that were full of lust. For a moment, it seemed like he was going to give in and let go of the grudge and just offer himself over for Edward’s usage. Then he saw the look Ed’s eyes as a smile curled over his lips at the thought. And the Penguin couldn’t allow him the sensation of a victory. So he quickly remembered himself and delivered an echoing slap to the other’s face. And what had been a slightly arrogant look turned to pure shock and anger as he lifted a hand to touch the now reddening cheek. 

“How dare you, Edward Nygma?! How dare you come in here and think--” He huffed and looked at the man who stood curious behind Ed’s back, watching with unsure eyes. What was he supposed to do? Was this part of Oswald’s experience? Was this what he wanted? It was hard to say definitively. Impossible, so he just stood there. In his slightly mussed suit and missing his tie along with the first few buttons of his shirt. He really wasn’t nearly as handsome as Ed. Not as domineering. His kissing didn’t hurt like Ed’s did, didn’t bring him that deep sweet pain of being alive and being hungered for in such a way that the person kissing him wanted to hurt him. Because he deserved it. Like Oswald deserved to be hurt for all the things he had done to Edward, and for the fact he still was desirable to him. As if he deserved to hurt over it. Oswald set his jaw and narrowed his eyes still on the not handsome or passionate enough man, resolved that for all his inadequacies, the man would not be asked to leave. He couldn’t let Ed win. Not this easily. Not after the dozens of battles waged against one another. “Darling, please escort Mr. Riddler out of the room.” He said with a cold tone and then finally allowed his eyes to flick onto the shocked and almost bewildered face of Edward. 

Ed never expected this. He hadn’t even been prepared to do anything-- any of this for most of the night and if the slap had surprised him, well being told he would be escorted out was utterly and entirely earth shattering. No. No. NO.  **NO.** Ed refused to accept this. He refused to accept any of this and when the very stupid, very dim, far too confident man grabbed his arm to do as Oswald said, Edward couldn’t do more blink as his hand grabbed for the nearby brass candlestick which had likely been used many a times in this very suite to set the mood and draw certain degree of ambiance into the equation. He never made the decision to kill him. It was a reflex. His fingers clutched the object and as he turned to meet his eyes, he slammed it into his skull. The dunce had recoiled in horror and before he could act in defense, Ed hit him again. And again. Each strike delivered fresh blood spatters over the walls and over Ed’s own face and clothing. By the time he stops, the man’s blood has painted his hands and is seeping into his shirt cuffs and the carpet he now slumps on. Ed had even bent over his lifeless body to keep beating for several.. Seconds? Minutes? It’s a mystery, but when he comes back to his senses, and straightens himself, he finds Oswald had stepped closer, clearing the space which had been left when Ed stepped away and now, he almost hovered next to him. Those blue eyes stared down at the body with wonder and excitement and as he looked up at the Riddler, he couldn’t help but notice that blood speckled over Oswald’s freckle laiden cheeks and nose. He smirked a little up at Ed, sheet now hanging loose around him as his tongue darted out to lick a drop of blood from the corner of his mouth. 

Oswald had been attracted to Ed for so long, and over so many remarkably silly little things. The way he turned a book page. The light in his eyes when he spouted useless information. The way he held a knife or a gun and almost looked on edge about it. Like he didn’t know for certain what he would do either. As if he were aware of just how dangerous he could be and also still feared just how far he might be capable of going. Even in hating him. Even in loathing him. Oswald had been attracted to Ed time and time again. Yet somehow, every time he felt a little surprised at the way the thrill of adrenaline and desire raced along his spine and left chills scampering over his skin. Moments like this, with eye contact that felt like true  _ contact _ , Oswald was unsure even what else there was but this feeling. This anticipation as Ed moved to once again tower over him… Why was he denying him? What was he trying to prove again? Power… Power or something about-- Edward Nygma stood so near him that Oswald could smell the peppermint of his earlier cocktail still on his breath when he spoke. It was almost as distracting as the way his lips moved as he said the words which the Penguin was hardly conscious of hearing. Or understanding. 

“That is your fault, you know, Oswald…? That poor man was just doing his job and it is all  _ your  _ fault that he’s dead now.” He was smirking, stepping towards Oswald who stepped back with each move, until he was backed into a wall, still with his eyes fixated so much more on the way Ed said the words and so much less on what those words were. “Perhaps it would be fitting for you to join him? Since you think this was all so amusing… That is what you did this whole little show for, wasn’t it? Your own amusement? To watch me come up here and make some fool out of myself so you could reject me? ME? No, Oswald, that isn’t how this works….  _ I _ reject  **_you_ ** .” And with that, Ed’s right hand lifted to gently caress over Oswald’s cheek as his left clenched around Oswald’s throat. The shorter man’s Adam’s apple bobbed beneath Ed’s hand and he tilted his head back a little with his eyes closed. His face was turning red beneath all those freckles and the still rather fresh blood, and even his ears were flushing with excitement. It was cute. Or would have been, if Ed allowed himself to take notice. He was too busy tracing his thumb over those impossibly sharp cheekbones and delighting in the way Oswald looked, neck craned, eyes screwed shut in mingled ecstasy and fear as Edward smeared the blood of his lover onto his pretty face. His hand tightened still more over his windpipe. He could kill him. He wanted to kill him, right? That was always the goal with Oswald. To end him. 

And yet, looking at him now in this moment when that very goal was at his fingertips, all Ed wanted to do was kiss him. He was too beautiful like this. At his mercy. At his surrender. Oswald was not one who surrendered willingly when he could help it and he certainly wasn’t one who enjoyed it when he did. But here he was seeming to revel in the feeling of loss. The feeling of blissful concession to another. And the Riddler could not find it in him to kill Oswald when he looked so damned perfect like this. Instead, he released the grip on his neck to bury a fist in his hair and began to kiss his neck passionately. He bit and sucked at the flesh, leaving little bruises and marks in his wake. Soon enough he had Oswald moaning and whimpering against him as his trembling hands clung-- one to the sheet around him and the other to Ed’s shirt beneath his jacket. 

“Bed.” Came the simple word from Ed’s lips and despite how gruff it was, there as a tinge of genuine desperation there. He needed this. He needed it, and he was all but begging for it. Oswald couldn’t revel in any smugness though as he was trembling with the sheer anticipation of what was to come himself. Both men were being reduced down to their rawest, most desperate forms and soon they found themselves headed for the bedroom, kissing and touching and fondling as they tried their best not to break the embraces which had carried them this far together. As if to let the other go would be to let go of all of this. Oswald was shoved back onto the bed with a far too gentle sort of push as Ed began to strip away his suit and climb over him. It was sudden and yet fluid. This position, their bodies just seemed natural. This was where Oswald was meant to be. This was where Ed belonged. Together. Oswald’s thighs on his hips, his groin rutting now into Oswald’s sheet covered body. That’s all that was there, and somehow the flimsy barrier was far too much. Like a wall between them. It left their bodies together and yet apart. Ed’s fingers groped at it with frustration as Oswald’s hands were both on Ed’s trousers zip. Somewhere in the fury of laying down, Ed had managed to strip away his tie and jacket, along with kicking off his shoes. Just his trousers, shirt, undergarments, and socks seemed to remain.That was also far too much but in this moment of intense, hunger Oswald was trying his best to just get Ed’s damned trousers off. 

Ed was the first who was successful, ripping away the now blood soaked sheet as his hands had stained everything he touched with it, and the hungry kisses which had kept them blind to the fumblings of their hands were broken as he moved to begin kissing down Oswald’s clavicle. The other man had done this perhaps… The thought lingered in Ed’s mind. Oh how he hated to consider it, even as his hands still brushed some traces of blood onto the soft skin of Oswald’s chest. He was beautiful. Truly beautiful. His tongue traced down the line of his chest and his teeth scraped against the hardened point of his nipple. Oswald arched up with a hiss of unexpected delight and Ed found extensive joy in toying his way around playing with the sensitive flesh there. Oswald moaned a new sort of guttural sound, and Ed loved every second of it, moving to alternate between sucking on one and then the other. One and then the other until finally he moved back from the body he had been so well loving towards, just enough to catch Oswald’s eyes before directing his attention downward to the erection which currently was being slightly rutted against Ed’s abdomen in all the intensity of desire rushing between them. 

There was just so much in this moment. So many things which they’d never said-- which perhaps they COULD never say, and so instead they translated into the soft touches and desperate noises each made. Oswald gave a hiss when Ed scraped his teeth down his stomach and found both his hands suddenly digging into Ed’s hair, nails scraping into the scalp as he panted and whined softly. “Edward….” He breathed the name in a tone which dripped with unsung praises, words of adoration choking in his throat as he almost feared to voice them. Feared to say anything that this might be some cruel joke which would suddenly end. Or worse still a dream realized which would evaporate around them. 

Soon Ed’s mouth engulfed his embarrassingly hardened length. An erection which had been first half hearted and for a hollow imitation of Edward now throbbed in full, almost painful desperation for the real thing and Ed let Oswald have it. His lips wrapped around him, slow and purposeful. As if Ed had perhaps spent time considering this moment. Deciding on just what he would want should he ever be allowed the privilege of sharing Oswald’s bed. Which of course, he had done hundreds of times over, and yet would never admit to having done even once. Oswald could never know how much his unrequited love had been felt in return, how Edward had burned for him. How he ached. How he was consumed by it. Instead, Ed just swallowed the truth and in turn also swallowed the pulsing manhood of his long desired lover. The man who helped make him who he was, the man who saw him as no one else ever could. The only person who had ever really broken his heart because he was the only one Ed had ever really allowed himself to care for. 

Soon such poetry falls lost as Ed’s head dips lower and takes more and more of Oswald down his throat. He’s so aroused, so pulsating and with a hand wrapped around his base, Ed thinks he can feel the exact time of Oswald’s heart hammering away in his chest like this. He has the power. The control over everything that happens. Oswald is keening and arching and whimpering, like an animal enthralled in instinct and lost from his senses. There is nothing but Edward’s existence, his touch, his mouth in this moment for Oswald, and the Riddler knows it. He enjoys it. He eventually pulls back though and allows the vulgar sound of his mouth popping as it releases the seal he had created around Oswald’s length. It’s a sound that Ed once upon a time would have despised, and even now he feels a bit of shame creeping over his cheeks. It is made inherently satisfying though by the way Oswald’s head falls back onto the pillow with a resounding groan at the noise. 

It’s a delicious sound to Oswald. A noise so lewd, so full of raw, sexual meaning that it makes the ache of arousal between his own thighs feel all that more burdensome. And now being denied Ed’s mouth, he is left a simpering, whimpering mess. He is afraid in a way. Scared almost. Those words are still heavy in his throat and he refuses to allow them to tumble out. As he also refuses to allow himself to beg for Edward. Even as he wants to. Even as he can feel just how easy it would be for him to do so. The words hover in his mind. It would be so easy and yet-- yet he can’t seem to bare to consider it. He could sob with how badly he wants to, and he could kill someone over his resolve not to. His fear is lingering, subtle, lurking behind this moment where he is all at once too overcome with arousal to care and too vulnerable to let it go-- what if Ed rejects him? What if he begs, debases himself even in the name of the satisfaction he has been thus far denied only to be rejected. Laughed at even. Worse still, humiliated. Every moment of their knowing one another seems to scream that it is not an impossibility and thus, it is not a risk Oswald can bare to take. 

And so he lays there for what feels like an eternity. 

Eyes closed tight and body trembling in anticipation of whatever Edward plans next until a hand comes down to grip his throat. His eyes open now with a sudden gasp, only to be met with Ed’s intense gaze right back. He had pushed off his clothing that remained. He was nude. He was beautiful. His strong hand, now only brushed with traces of his victims blood from earlier grips Oswald’s neck as his other hand is suddenly and oh so gently pushing apart Oswald’s thighs, which spread oh so willingly. And as he glanced down, Oswald can see the hand disappearing between them and suddenly a single lubricated fingertip brushes his entrance. He wonders at Ed being able to strip and ready his fingers so quickly, but of course that is at the very back of his mind. In the forefront, Oswald is screaming for the fact he will finally have Ed inside of him. This is everything. The touch is everything and it makes Oswald gasp and gulp, causing his adam’s apple to bob oh so temptingly underneath Ed’s hand.

Edward thinks he does this on purpose. That this is all his game. The way he lays there as Ed struggles to remove his trousers moments earlier… It’s all done with the intent to drive the Riddler mad. Why else would he lay there? Like that. So inviting, so surrendering-- but yet not grabbing him. Not asking for him. Not even opening those eyes that Edward NEEDS to see. At all times. Through all of this. He demands those piercingly perfect blue eyes and Oswald knows this. He must! It’s why even as he gives himself over to the pleasure Ed is giving him, he denies Ed the things which are his by right! Like looking into those beautiful eyes. Feeling Oswald’s hands gripping him. Demanding him. He’s such a demanding little bird, isn’t he? Selfish. Hedonistic. And yet here is the most brilliant man in Gotham, offering everything he knows Oswald has always wanted from him, and the damned kingpin will scarcely look at him. No. NO. This won’t do. This isn’t right. 

Ed pulls back his finger even as it had just begun to breech Oswald-- who winces more at it’s removal than he had at it’s penetration. It occurs to Ed suddenly that for all their silence and all his now fading anger over the moron slumped in the foyer… He hadn’t actually been given consent for any of this. Not real consent. Not real desire. What if---

“Do you even want this?” 

It comes in a way that leaves so much unsaid and yet is more than either man had ever intended to utter in these moments. Both were so desperately willing to give themselves over to the desire between them without thinking and yet perhaps that is an impossibility. Ed’s hand is still fixed on Oswald’s neck which keeps the smaller man from turning away. Instead his narrows his eyes at Ed, forcing them both to somehow find honesty for one another amidst all the lies they’d been telling themselves and others for so very long. 

“Do you?” It’s meant to sound biting and barely manages to be less than pitiful. Oswald is sincere. Sincerity in the face of Edward Nygma is a painful thing for him these days, but he manages it. 

“Would I have come up here if I didn’t?” He avoids the question in a perfectly Riddler sort of fashion. 

“Yes.” Oswald smirks a little at him. “You’re a childish man, Ed-- you don’t have to want me to demand I want you.” Oswald closes his eyes and pushes Ed back to try and get up. This was a mistake. He can see it in those dark eyes he loves so well. 

“Do you?” The hand remains on his throat. Ed remains atop him, settled between his soft thighs and looking at him with honest curiosity. 

“Do I what?” Oswald spits, feeling irritated as his hands move to remove Ed once more only to have the hand on his throat move to pin both his hands over his head. This only serves to bring their faces closer and Ed’s brow furrows at Oswald’s question. 

Why was he being so difficult? Why did everything have to be such a battle? Because he’s Oswald… Some voice in his head echoes. He wouldn’t be here. He wouldn’t be atop him. He wouldn’t be demanding to have him if he were anyone else. Or anyway else. He is Oswald. He is hard, difficult, trying, impossible. Beautiful. Complicated. Fragmented and broken in ways that leave the jagged pieces of his soul deadly and dangerous in a way that excites Edward. In way no one else could ever excite Edward. No one else could ever be Oswald Cobblepot. Isn’t that the point of this all? Ed’s hand flexes against Oswald’s wrists and brings a moment of delighted surrender passing through Oswald’s eyes. Only for a moment. Almost indiscernible. But then Ed knows him well enough to always discern those eyes. 

“Want me?” He asks softly, almost earnestly. 

Perhaps it is the proximity? Yes, it must be that. It must be the closeness between them which makes Oswald feel so utterly and completely helpless to that question. Or maybe it’s the way he’s holding his arms. Pinning him. Dominating him. Oswald is already painfully hard and it just isn’t fair to be taking advantage of his lust this way. Especially not when Ed is so good at pretending to be sincere. Yes. It must be pretending. It must be…. God then why is it so compelling. His voice. His eyes. They draw Oswald in and suddenly the Penguin can scarcely recall why he is fighting this. Why there was a victory in his mind that existed without having this with Ed? Why he ever dreamed he’d have been satiated on the triumph of superiority alone? 

He knows there is nothing but Edward now. 

And Edward is all he wants. 

And helpless is he to deny that fact to anyone anymore. 

Even himself. Even  _ Edward _ . 

“More than you can know.” It’s such a soft spoken little sentiment, His hands bend under Ed’s restraint to stroke the smallest touch against his skin. Oswald’s fingertips needing to caress him so very much. Even if it is in the smallest way possible. The next words are strangled by emotions that are no longer weighing themselves inside Oswald’s throat-- no longer threatening to choke him. They are now spilling out in a way that he had feared and fought and now to which he succumbed. “I love you.” He says it and he knows he can’t take it back. There is no more before. That is over. There will only ever be an after to such a confession and all he can hope for is that the fates are more merciful for this confession than they ever were in the wake of his previous confession. Such hope is reckless and unlikely, but it’s all Oswald has. 

Suddenly Ed lets go of his wrists, and shifts on the bed. Why did Oswald have to say that? Why did he have to…. But it’s what he wanted wasn’t it? He came in here demanding how Oswald was his. Is his. Always. That buffoon he came up here with was only ever a pale imitation of the real thing. Of the things which they shared. But god, Ed wasn’t prepared to receive what he was seeking. The words resound inside him where a hollowness has existed for far too long, and they seem to find a place to nest in there. Inside his chest. Right where he long ago had decided his heart wasn’t allowed to be anymore. And yet-- 

Edward feels no pride in what comes next because for as debased as Oswald might be laying there feeling, Ed is certain he has sunken far far lower still as he murmurs the desperate words in Oswald’s ear, his hands skating down over the man’s sides as he presses close to his ear. 

“Show me?” 

It isn’t even a demand. It isn’t even confident… It’s so soft. So gentle. So hungry and needy and questioning as if everything he is, had never been. As if he had no stormed in here and killed a man so he could demand Oswald. So he could take what was his. He had been so angry and so full of fury and so very very certain he was going to fuck Oswald as roughly as he could, and yet….Here and now, they lay together and Ed’s nose nuzzles against Oswald’s neck. He smells better than Ed will never admit to imagining he would. And all Edward wants is to really know what it is to be loved by him in every way he was never supposed to want. Every curiosity he was never supposed to have, Every desire he has denied the existence of for so very long. 

And the request is met with Oswald turning and catching his lips now. He kisses him deeply and lovingly and with an intensity he hadn’t been able to feel before. Tongues and teeth and touches. Oswald runs hands down his cheeks and over his beautiful neck and down his strong shoulders to pull him in closer still. Until there is no close. They are simply together.  No more proximity. No more nearness. They just are. Existing in the same space, bodies entwining, breaths mingling. Ed is grinding against him in anticipation of what is coming and their neglected arousals brush against one another. Oswald reaches down to stroke the both of them clumsily, but Ed takes his hand away almost as soon as it makes contact. He can’t risk that. He’s no longer in control and he can’t risk being touched by hands he craved as much as he did Oswald’s. No. Oswald gives a small hum of frustration and instead grabs at Ed’s wrist then. His fingers are still slick with lubricant-- sort of. Oswald is willing to bear the pain in his desperation as he pushes Ed’s hand between his legs. 

Ed isn’t though. He smiles against Oswald’s lips which by now are well kissed and almost becoming familiar with the consistency of their contact with Ed’s own. Ed loves being wanted. Being needed. But he won’t hurt him. Irony of all ironies in this moment. A thought which will likely haunt the hate fueled moments between them which will come later. But it doesn’t matter. Ed won’t do it. The lube is still on the nightstand where he left it, so Ed retrieves the bottle and re-coats his fingers before getting to the task of pushing a single tip inside Oswald. The smaller man arches at the sensation and his hands grip fingernails into his shoulder blades with enough force Ed is certain he feels blood trickle down his back. Oswald soon captures his bottom lip in a rough tug as if daring him to go deeper. Harder. Faster. And as his head falls back onto the pillows and those blue eyes meet Ed’’s, he has no doubt that is just what the dare is. 

And who is he to deny him? 

Soon his finger is thrusting into Oswald to the hilt. Filling him. He is so very tight and Ed can only imagine how this sensation must be for the other man. Knowing he is giving Oswald pleasure which has the smaller man slack jawed and panting… It’s a high Edward can’t define in words. It’s utterly delectable. Were Oswald not so overcome in the aforementioned sensation, he might have been more conscious of just how much Ed seemed to be enjoying and fixating on the way he was reacting. Especially as Ed’s finger brushed that oh so sensitive spot inside him. 

“OHHH!!” Oswald arched against Ed and that was all the incentive Ed needed to begin thrusting his finger in and out and always very much against that spot at a fast, ruthless pace. Soon one finger became two. He was tempted to push a third inside just for the way Oswald was literally falling apart at his fingertips. But no. Not this time. Perhaps the next. Ed is too distracted to realize he has this thought, and besides which a part of him has already accepted if allowed to repeat this, he would. Again and again. Oswald leans up to kiss him sloppily as his fingers slide from within him and Ed is now the one to be left whimpering as Oswald is reaching down to guide Ed’s length against his entrance. He spreads his awaiting thighs. His body trembling, quivering for Edward to atlast take him as they both so desperately need. Long forgotten is all the fury and hate that brought them to this moment. It can come back later. When their need is less and their hunger is satiated. Right now, all that there is between them is desire and affection and longing. All mingling with their tangled limbs and lust ravaged bodies. 

Slowly Ed begins to thrust up into him and it takes every bit of restraint not to be savage with him. Not out of malice, but out of sheer burdensome want. But he holds back. He controls himself. He only thrusts in inch by agonizing inch, allowly the oh so inviting heat of Oswald Cobblepot to engulf him as the other man gives small whimpers into his ear as he clings to Ed. Arms wrapped around his back, hands gripping his shoulders, legs wrapped around his torso, heels crossed as they brush against Ed’s spine and only make him all that more certain he wants nothing more than to sink into the other man. To drown in the penguin. To lose himself in it all. And oh how Oswald would welcome it. His every noise, his every breath, his every heart beat is for and because of Ed in this instant. He wants to surround him. To bury him. To flood him. And as that first excruciatingly careful thrust reaches its full depth-- as the pressure is built and met and Oswald has that moment to adjust to the intrusion, he presses his lips against Ed’s ear and murmurs words that suddenly fill everything around them and everything inside them at the same time. 

“Show me.” 

It’s what Ed had asked earlier. It’s what this all is for Oswald. He is showing Ed how much he loves him. He is wanting him and clinging to him and allowing him to have the thing which he had always believed Ed would never want. But it occurs to Oswald now that Ed might have always wanted, and moreover that he might have his own to give. So Oswald makes a demand for it, and that demand echoes in Ed’s ears as he wonders how he could have been the last one to see it. All this time. Everything between them. And Oswald saw it before him. Oswald knew first. He loved him back. Tears fill Ed’s eyes but they aren’t pained or sad or anything of the sort. They are a relief. A beautiful, overwhelming relief as it all fits suddenly. As they fit suddenly. It’s with those tears in his eyes and a soft nod of his head against Oswald’s neck, he begins to thrust. A rhythm that is at once too much and yet not enough, It sparks and fuels itself. Overwhelms them both and yet only serves to stoke a fire that will not be so easily dampened. A thirst not so easily quenched. They are grabbing at one another. Hands on flesh, bodies meeting one another’s thrust. Ed’s hand is on Oswald’s length somewhere in the midst of it and Oswald is pulling his hair and leaving bite marks on Ed’s neck that will surely end up as bruises. Bruises which will match the ones Ed’s fingertips are certainly leaving in the way they grip Oswald’s hip. Neither can get enough even as both feel overcome with the pleasure of it. Of this moment. Of one another. 

Oswald comes first. He spills over both of their stomach’s and onto Ed’s deft fingers. It’s the kind of bliss that makes everything go into a haze. His vision clouded a little, his eyes close tight as he tries to contain the orgasm that is ripping through him. Splintering him surely as he is incapable of holding such pleasure. It feels like a death of sorts, and perhaps it is. His body ripples with waves of warm ecstasy for moments after and the clenching of his ass in such moments of pleasure only serves to bring on an orgasm from his partner. Ed spills inside him with a ragged deep thrust and the orgasm that comes for him is everything Oswald feels. But perhaps somehow more. Relief washes between them. But Edward feels sure whatever Oswald feels… It can’t compare to the sweet surrender of knowing this truth about himself. Of allowing himself to know it. To feel it. To express it. It is as he rolls off of Oswald, laying with his back to the mattress and his chest still heaving with panted breaths that he takes the moment to say it outloud. 

“I love you, Oswald.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jeeze this was a long time in the making. Finally back in the swing of things though which I'm very excited about. So here is this work finally finished! I hope you enjoyed it! The original prompt was hate sex that turned loving. I hope this feels like I did justice to that. 
> 
> As always, please leave kudos, comments, and all that good stuff. It sustains me, and especially cause this is my first bit of writing in a while-- I especially need the sustenance. XD


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